I must be 'positively ancient' but those memories  are some of the best parts of  life.

A youngster  asked the other day, 'What was your favourite  'fast food' when you were growing up?'

'We  didn't have fast food when I was growing up,' I  informed him.

'All the food was slow.' 

'C'mon, seriously.. Where did you  eat?' 

'It  was a place called 'home,'' I explained. !

'Mum  cooked every day and when Dad got home from work,  we sat down together at the dining room table, and  if I didn't like what she put on my plate, I was  allowed to sit there until I did like  it.'

By  this time, the lad was laughing so hard I was  afraid he was going to suffer serious internal  damage, so I didn't tell him the part about how I  had to have permission to leave the  table.

But here are some other things I  would have told him about my childhood if I'd  figured his system could have handled  it:

Some  parents NEVER owned their own house, wore jeans,  set foot on a golf course, travelled out of the  country or had a credit  card.

My  parents never drove me to school... I had a  bicycle that weighed probably 50 pounds, and only  had one speed  (slow)..

We  didn't have a television in our house until I was  10.

It was, of course, black and white, and the  station went off the air at 10 PM, after playing  the national anthem and epilogue; it came back on  the air at about 6 pm the following day. And there was usually a  locally produced news and farm show on, featuring  local people....

Pizzas  were not delivered to our home... But milk  was.

All  newspapers were delivered by boys and girls and all boys  delivered newspapers.

   I delivered  newspapers, seven days a week.  

I had to get up at  6  every morning.

Film  stars kissed with their mouths shut. At least,  they did in the films.

   There  were no movie ratings because all movies were  responsibly produced  for  everyone to enjoy viewing, without profanity or  violence or almost

   anything  offensive.

If  you grew up in a generation before there was fast  food, you may want to share some of these memories  with your children or grandchildren. Just don't  blame me if they bust a gut  laughing.

   Growing  up isn't what it used to be, is  it?

MEMORIES  from a friend:

My  Dad is cleaning out my grandmother's house (she  died in December) and he brought me an old  lemonade   bottle. 

In the bottle top was a stopper with a bunch  of holes in it. I knew immediately what it was,  but my daughter had no idea..

She thought they  had tried to make it a salt shaker or something. I  knew it as the bottle that sat on the end of the  ironing board to 'sprinkle' clothes with because  we didn't have steam irons.

   Man,  I am old.